


With A Whisper

by nanjcsy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Abuse, Deception, Family Secrets, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, Interrogation, Mind Manipulation, Murder Family, Nannerverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/nanjcsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm won a gift story for correctly determining deaths and character plots on Taking Over. He asked for a one shot about Arya Stark being adopted into the Bolton family.<br/>Well, here is my interpretation of how I think that could go....</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Whisper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalcolmXavier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmXavier/gifts).



I have secrets still. Not many, not even big ones anymore.

My father says a flayed man holds no secrets. Well, I say a girl surrounded by grey walls, stuffed with pills and questions thrown at her under bright lights and cameras has few secrets.

But still a few secrets is better than none.

 

I don't know why they ask me questions because they never like the answers. They say I have everything wrong and need to listen to their fake truths. Some things I say they believe and rush off to verify it. But even then the answers make them angry or disgusted or sad, so why ask at all? Silly.

My father would have told them a thing or two about wasting questions on answers you don't need or want. But they ask and I need money for the little excuse of a store they let us use at the institution. So I answer them.

An aide made me shower and brush out my hair for the questions today. I guess it was important to them. It took two guards to make me shower and while one held me the other smoothed out my hair. As soon as they let me go to cuff me, I shook my head till my hair was all over the place.

Contradictory and stubborn my father would have said. The guards used other words that meant the same thing as they had dragged me to the lights and questions.

Men and a woman all dressed formally, I don't remember them before at court or at other questionings. It doesn't matter, they are introduced and I didn't care enough to remember the names.

The same questions, just asked a different way as if that would change my answers.

 

How do I believe my biological family the Starks died?

I know how they died. I was a young school girl and very mischievous. I saw my older siblings smoking and stole their matches. I set a fire by accident and then screamed on the lawn while my family died.

Mr. Bolton was the one to come get me, our closest neighbor.

He was not just our neighbor and a family friend, he was my therapist. Well, not officially of course not.

No, he was where I went when I felt lonely. It sounds hard to be lonely in a house full of kids but that was just it. So much noise, so much chaos and my mother trying to juggle babies while father tried to juggle extra jobs.

I would go over the Bolton's. Roose had two boys but somehow it was more orderly and quiet over their house. Ramsay was always running off in trouble and Domeric always had his nose in a book.

Mr. Bolton had time for me, he would listen and sympathize with me. He heard me and would whisper that sometimes the wrong kids were given to the wrong parents.

One time he mentioned how he saw my older brothers smoking. He told me of how he heard of whole homes going up in flames from a well placed match. I would lean closer and he would whisper of how the survivors would have to be placed in a new home.

I asked him if it was me, would he adopt me and of course he said yes. Even as a little kid he saw something in me, something special that all these questions don't address!

I remember crying about all those coffins, I remember missing my mother while smoke still clogged my nose. Mr. Bolton had held a tissue and made me blow my nose. Then he gave me a hug while so many others were around us.

But he hugged me to whisper to me. He whispered that it wasn't my fault, that no one blamed me, even if I did murder my whole family. But I certainly never meant to kill my own family, he would assure me for years and years until it sunk in.

 

It was hard to be adopted by the Bolton family. Not paperwork wise, no, that was easy, I did nothing but smile for a judge and say yes. But Domeric and Ramsay took some convincing.

Mr. Bolton only defended me against them truly hurting me, but he let me work my way through it for the most part. Sometimes, his whispers proved to be so useful to me in dealing with others.

Like when Ramsay tied me to his damned leash then got on his bike and dragged me through a thorn bush over and over until the leash snapped. That night while my new father used tweezers to remove thorns from my body, he whispered how Ramsay's most prized possessions were his dogs.

How some boys only learn when cruel savagery is applied because it's all they understand.

It took father and Domeric to hold Ramsay down when he found the new puppies all drowned in a bucket. The mother dog was howling and the four other mongrels were all foaming and snarling at the air.

Ramsay knew it was me and I knew to watch my back ever since around him. Domeric warmed to me once he discovered I hated Ramsay as much as he did.

 

Oh, the questions about my family over and over. It stresses me out and they give me a pill then soup when I wake up. A small walk outside with the useless therapist and back to the question room.

 

Now it's all about Joff.

Yes, I killed him but he was asking for killing. Really, I did a service, just ask those girls he attacked. No, it had nothing to do with my father's fight with the Baratheons or the Lannisters.

I knew Joff from school, from social functions we were dragged to. I didn't hurt him until senior year of high school and it was all my idea. My father whispered so much about the families, it was hard for me not to notice Joff.

I noticed how his girlfriends were pretty and rich. I also noticed they had bruises and fear in their eyes. I noticed how he would humiliate and degrade them in front of everyone. I also noticed that Joff had a habit of being around areas where pretty girls had been raped and murdered.

When I mentioned this to my father and brothers, it was decided I should keep spying upon Joff. Father and my brothers were already dealing with the other family members. But I just couldn't keep watching, it was really bothering me.  

Father would whisper that he knew I was trying very hard to not kill anymore since I accidentally killed my old family. He told me that if I did for some reason decide Joff needed killing I would do it carefully.

Staying quiet, the whispers go through me and I can make them my own. I was reminded of different ways to lure someone, of different ways one can be brought to justice.

 

So I had Domeric set me a fake account and I began to flirt with Joff online. I used an old photo of my sister who had been burnt to ash years ago and touched it up with Photoshop.

Joff was waiting at a park a few months later waiting to meet up with a pretty redheaded teenage girl. His favorite kind of victim. He was angry and disappointed at first when he saw me and Ramsay. He was scared not long after that.

Ramsay helped me subdue Joff, get him home and into the basement. He showed me how to attach Joff to the boards then gave me the flaying knives.

Father has spent years teaching me the art of flaying as he did my brothers.

At first I learned on dead animals that we hunted, then on live animals. I was gifted the right to learn on a human body when I turned thirteen. Enemies, bad people that our family would hunt would be hung in the basement and I would get to practice.

It took me three days to flay Joff alive. I recorded it so everyone would hear him admit to every rape, every torture, every death. The parents would hear their daughter's names and have closure.

Domeric had promised to help me with clean up but that is when it happened.

I went upstairs to tell them it was done and I found the carnage of my poor family. Ramsay had stabbed father in the chest, he had ripped Domeric's guts out all while I was in the basement with Joff.

 

Today after all the questions I was given a chance to ask my question. I always ask the same one.

Has Ramsay been caught yet? Did they find him?

The answer is always no but they have leads.

Today was a whole new reply.

Yes, he was found and was dead. Ramsay wouldn't give up and went out in a blaze of firearms and glory. It wasn't very fair but at least it was over.

The Boltons were dead, I was informed gravely by a disgusted man in a nice suit.

Very well then.

That leads back to my secret.

 

When the well dressed man leaned close to whisper his disgust at me, to mention all the Boltons were dead, I stole something. His silver pen and I open it now to look at it. As I shove it closer towards my eye it reminds me of a needle.

Just as the pain hit there was a flash of sickening light in my head.

The Boltons are dead, well then let the last Bolton go wi-


End file.
